


The Inexplicable & Complicated Life Of Sentient Cups

by StoryCloudBengal



Series: How To Live The Life Of A Sentient Cup, And Sucking At It [2]
Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drabble requests are allowed, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is STUPID, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2020-04-11 10:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryCloudBengal/pseuds/StoryCloudBengal
Summary: When you're a fragile piece of porcelain, everything can seem big and scary.When all you really have to lean on is your guardian and sibling, however, things...don't seem so bad after all...But the world is a complicated place, and of course, Cuphead and Mugman find this out in very interesting ways...A collection of one-shots, short stories, AU one-shots, drabbles, and songfics!All characters mentioned belong to MDHR STUDIOS except my OCsRandom thingies that pop into my head enjoy!





	1. Chilly Rains, Sharp Winds

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This one-shot is all over the place! I couldnt figure out how the fuck I wanna do anything with this and I put it off more than once so....
> 
>  
> 
> Read end notes for more info

 

Brilliant flashes of light raced through the dark clouds as they rolled ominously across the sky. Sharp claps of thunder roared, its powerful voice echoing along the landscape and rattling the panes of glass held by sticks, some by bricks, others by cement and stone. The wind sung a silent song of sorrow and mystique as it slashed and dashed amongst the treetops, and the grassy plains and knotted branches of the forest; through sweet-smelling fields of flowers, through little makeshift gardens and through open-door, cozy barns that sat quaintly on little hills. The wind raked at the tops of scraggly peaks of mountains along with its freezing, snowy caps. 

 

Many of the inhabitants of Inkwell watched the natural spectacle either in boredom, grievance and sorrow, or annoyance as they considered it a minor inconvenience upon their daily plans and rituals. Most, as it stood either paid no mind to the storm or regarded it as if it were a washed of rag covered in mold - simply disgusting.

 

Not everyone regarded the storm in awe.

 

Not everyone was Mugman.

 

Not everyone could stare out at the pouring rain and feel a strong connection to it - deeper meaning behind it. How, it all came together in an odd way, but most importantly it was a reminder...

 

Of their birth.

 

Or rather the day he and his brother had been found by their guardian, Elder Kettle. And ever since then, the boys, or Mugman at least, were content to watch the pitter-patter of the rain splashing upon their window sills of the quaint cottage they lived in on the edge of the forests and closest to the sharp peaks and moors and cliffs and jutted rocks that lay not far from the cold, salty, white spray of the ocean.

 

Baby blue eyes stared wide out into the dark gray mass of the storm, taking in everything and listening to nature dance in time with the malevolent storm.

 

And he wondered.

 

About his mother, his father, whether there were other sentient lifeforms such as himself...he wondered how they got to the Islands...

 

But these were questions he had asked before to the rusted, tin metal, tea kettle - he had had no reasonable response and could answer with pity in his eyes and coming forth in the form of words from his lips. None of the residents understood either, and like Elder Kettle, washed their piting gazes upon them with the understood knowledge, to the adults at least, that the boys were absolutely orphans.

 

That hadn't set well with Cuphead who immediately retaliated with tantrums and picking fights and pranks on any adult who so dared to even think that the boys had nothing else; no bloodline, or cousins or uncles and aunts. Mugman on the other hand...learning these things out - he had been told this news via easedropping - he had not been happy but at the same time it has made the most sense. 

 

A ship crash? Maybe. And then the boys had made it to the Islands, all washed up and bedraggled and soaked to the soul liquid contained in their porcelain bodies. 

 

Mugman had said as much about his theory to Cuphead before being snapped at and having to hold his ground against his brother's fiery gaze.

 

An then the insults came and Mugman had to bring his brother down a peg. The fight lasted approximately four minutes. It'd surely felt longer than that.

 

The sounds of a loud yawn stopped the blue clad boy's thoughts in their tracks and he turned his head to watch his red clad brother, dressed in a loose fitting, red plaid, long-sleeved pajama top with pants to match stumble his way ungracefully down the stairs looking like a washed-up king kicked from his throne. At best, a lazy prince if nothing else.

 

"Has the princess finally awaken from her cursed sleep?" he teased in a high-pitch girly accent, snickering when his brother paused to glare daggers at him even though the effect it should've had was ruined from the dark creases under his eyes, and his straw swirling about in his head didn't help.

 

"I'll fracken end you..." Cuphead uttered trying very hard to appear menacing.

 

"You look like an addict."

 

*"Des meino!"* he heard Cuphead shout back, although it was distant as the cup was now in the kitchen rustling around in the cabinet.

 

Probably looking for his black tea...Mugman thought.

 

Shuffling stopped for a moment, and then there was the scrape of metal and a heavy thunk and grunt. A couple seconds later he heard running water and the kettle being turned on followed by a sharp whistle.

 

The mug turned his attention back to the rain and let the sound of the growling thunder, for the lightning had stopped, to lull him into a sense of calm. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as the sound of the rain, no longer violent and thrashing against the roof of the house, gently parted the ground in fat drops. It was clear to the toon that soon the storm would pass over at any given time in a few hours, might as well savor what was left while he still has the chance.

 

"Hey." A slight nudge against his shoulder had the mug (almost) jump in fright before turning to glare at his brother, ready to (needlessly explain to him because he wasn't going to listen anyways) that taking him out of his concentrated state was rude, until he noticed the cup steaming with a yellow-ish, green tinted liquid.

 

"Green tea?," Cuphead asked although it was more of a statement than anything else.

 

"Aww, you remembered I existed for ten seconds, that's so sweet of you!" Mugman teased once more, because teasing Cuphead after he'd awoken from his afternoon nap were the best.

 

Case in point, Cuphead yet again attempted to glare daggers into Mugman's very being, but it failed.

 

"Fine then I'll just dump it-" he started, gripping the handle a lot more gently and tippig it, ever so slightly-

 

"An then you'll pick it up because Elder Kettle's gonna kick your butt," Mugman stated matter-of-factly.

 

His brother grumbled in response, and he laughed out loud at the idiotic pouty face he was making. Still chuckling at his twin he picked up the cup; a small tea cup made of delicate china, and embroidered with fine, gold on the edges that spelled out the word, Xìngyùn Huā, fortunate flower.

 

It had taken Mugs about three weeks of extensive reading to reach the conclusion that it was written in traditional Chinese, and two weeks to enunciate the words properly. Granted, he could have just asked the one who had given it to him; Charles Muntz, the guy who ran 100-acres of land decided to turn it into his personal air strip for whatever reason, but it did make for fun times during the summer. But anyways, the toon had given the small cup to him as a birthday gift (technically they didn't have a birthday, only the recollections of the day Elder Kettle found them described in vivid detail because surprisingly enough for his old age he had a risilient memory) and that had been when he was...what? Seven? He was twelve now.

 

Getting back to the point, fortunate flower, a completely ironic statement that might have jinxed him. And he was certain it did.

 

Sipping on his tea, ever so delicately, because Cuphead didn't know how to make green tea to save his life and Mugman despised teabags  and he was pretty sure that's what he'd used to make the tea which he clearly did on purpose to get back at him, he looked out the window once more watching the storm dull and the thunder throb amongst the fluffy clouds, plotting his revenge against his brother.

 

Wasn't it his turn to make lunch?...

 

He hid his smirk behind the rim of his cup and thought meticulously about what to do.

 

...All while listening to the sounds of his brother's loud slurping as he sucked his own tea through his straw.

 

Yeah, it was his turn to make lunch. Ooooh, Cuppy was gonna pay.

 

"This tea is horrible..." Mugman stated after a moment.

 

"I made it with love!" Cuphead exclaimed.

 

"Spite you mean."

 

"...yeah..."

 

"Pfft"

 

The blue mug glanced up at the clock that lay on the opposite side of the room. A few more minutes. 

 

"I'm very hungry..."

 

"Three more minutes."

 

"Please..."

 

"..."

 

"..."

 

"Wanna help me make lunch then?"

 

The red cup let out a loud groan, head rolling  to the side, liquid sloshing inside erratically.

 

"Screw it, let's do this."


	2. Drabble #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He messed up, but it was okay because he couldn't hurt himself, or anyone else, ever again...

He sometimes forgot.

 

 

While he sat admist the heaving mountain

caps, he forgot.

 

 

What he left.

 

 

What he'd had.

 

 

How simple mistakes can crumble your very being and tear your life apart before your eyes.

 

 

So he tried forgetting the last forty years.

 

 

Forget her.

 

 

Forget them.

 

 

Forget the casino.

 

 

Sitting on top of what he was _now sure_ was the highest mountain on ***** Ichor Island he closed his eyes and forgot.

 

 

Because, if he couldn't change what he had become, then he could change the little bit of outcome that his mistakes had caused.

 

 

And that had to count for something, right?

**\------**

 

**Ichor Island: a tiny peninsula 3 miles off from the mainland and is located southeast from Inkwell. There are small villages dotted throughout the landscape, but for the most part it is mostly barren with mountains and rolling valleys.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it really such a bad thing to run from your problems?...


	3. First Life Lessons Are Always Confusing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuphead gets into a fight and it all goes down from there.

 

The first ever fight Cuphead got into was when he was eight years old. It had been during sundown and one of the other boys on the playground during recess had been talking about his brother. Calling him a wimp, big nose,the usual asshole-ish remarks of bullies. Now, for a short, yet long, time Cuphead had surprisingly managed to stay out of trouble. He still talked stuff straight up in front of the teachers and a few mischievous pranks were pulled here and there, but in terms of actual  _ trouble _ the cup had been mindful to stay away from all that. One would call that the golden days of Cuphead's life. 

 

Back when the boy didn't make brash and bold decisions on a whim with small mutterings of, “idiot” or something of the like.

 

But, on that fateful Thursday Cuphead had made his mark as the troublemaker of Isle 1. Actually, he became the child that would totally be up for a fight if you gave him a reason to which earned him the title of bold child wanna get into fights for no reason (he got his ass handed to him on multiple occasions after these events).  

 

The porcelain headed boy stepped up to the metaphorical plate handed to him ready to “settle the score”. 

 

Or at least...in the cup’s mind that was what he was  _ supposed  _ to be doing right? Like, that was thing, yes? Big brothers do that all the time...right?

 

And besides, if anyone asked him why he thought it would be a smart idea to do a one versus three fight he would simply say:

 

“I mean it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time and come on, I’ve won plenty of fights!”

 

Cuphead had in fact, never won a fight in his short life.

 

His little brother had finally been dealt the brutal fist of reality, he had been bullied and therefore everyone had to die - NO EXCEPTIONS. After all, as the older brother, it was his duty to dutifully beat the crap outta those who dare to taunt his little bro. I mean sure, no one was sure who was older but  _ he was  _ because he could be and Elder Kettle said he could be whatever he wanted to be and he wanted to be the older brother, nothing wrong with that.

 

Honestly though, now that the boy was here it only occurred to him then that perhaps he shouldn't have involved the bully’s friends in this fight…

 

And maybe, he shouldn’t have agreed to fight on school grounds. Technically speaking there were still teachers in the building and tutoring was still going on, too.

 

Crap.

 

On the plus side, he’d sent Mugman home so he wouldn’t have to watch this totally PG-13 battle that was about to go down.

 

And rather quickly things did go down.

 

Cuphead lost which was to be expected.

 

Apparently when you’ve crafted a sword so majestically above the blazing fire that dances and spits forth fiery Furies from its mouth like only the best swordsmith could accomplish; handed so precariously down to only a knight worthy of using such a crafted sword to serve justice on those who deserved it; doesn’t officially mean you were bound to win. In fact if anything Cuphead was a little shocked and perturbed by this, not fully understanding the ramifications of what had just taken place. 

 

Sporting a bruise worthy for a boxer champion than anything and a small chip on his head (his brother’s bully sure was being awfully generous!)  the red clad boy lay in the dirt contemplating on just how things had gone wrong so fast. He had been in victory’s reach - he was sure of it!

 

And then the sound of giggling and snickers caught his nonexistent ears. He turned his head and found himself in a much more surreal situation than previously thought. At first the defeat he was handed was small, not so bad, a sting to his ego but nothing more. Now though…

 

The  _ girls  _ had seen his ultimate failure!

 

Now _that_ was unacceptable by Cuphead's standards.

 

So like the empty headed idiot he was he demanded a rematch.

 

To bad the teachers had caught him, and the bullies, in the act otherwise he would've gotten away with it.

 

School was technically officially out for the day, so the teachers could do nothing but let a snickering bully and his gang go along with a frustrated Cuphead who  _ for some reason  _ had been reprimanded more than the group of four had.

 

Up until now Cuphead had never,  _ ever _ , been humiliated in such a blatant and blunt way. Never had he  _ lost to someone _ .

 

It was…

 

Infuriating.

 

He hated it.

 

This feeling of complete disgust at himself for such a fail. The fact that he couldn’t even bring himself to have an actual comeback for the jeers that had rang through his head as he had passed those girls yet again. He could barely face them with the weight of the...the…

 

Embarrassment.

 

Which isn't to say that Cuphead had never embarrassed himself before - he had done so plenty of times, but...this - this was  _ sooo different  _ and  _ so much worse _ .

 

It was like a sinking feeling in his gut that threatened to eat him whole. It tore at his insides making him squirm at the undeniably thick sensation trying to settle within him. Because somewhere in the depths of his conscious he could hear the soft whispers of  _ failure  _ and  _ you failed your brother!  _ And it hurt...it hurt a lot.

 

So much more than it should have.

 

“It was just some stupid fight, though..” Cups muttered under his breath even as his cheeks flushed a light coloring of salmon-pink. A part of him hissed at him,  _ liar _ , it wasn’t just a fight - it was more than that, but the heavy sensation of the welling emotions he felt that threatened to spill over; that pricked sharply at the corners of his eyes and made his nonexistent throat feel heavy making it uncomfortable to breathe; how it made his tongue feel dry and mouth parched, and how he was doing everything in his power to keep it together made him push that small, antagonistic voice aside in favor of looking up at the sky.

 

 He was now off Isle 3 and on Isle 2, and of course, as to be expected most of the amusement rides an venues were closing down as the sun began to settle for the night and the sky began to become a dark indigo blanket covered in glitter.

 

Cuphead winced.

 

__ Elder Kettle would probably be having steam streaming out of his top by now. And what’s worse, he would probably end up not getting dessert after dinner either. Then again there was also the fact that Mugman never slept until Cuphead was settled in. It was an odd, yet comforting, thought that his little brother put the effort into making sure  _ he  _ was comfortable in his own bed before taking care of himself.

 

Truly it was adorable.

 

The cup found himself stopping as he looked on with wide eyes at the bridge that connected Isle 1 and 2 together. Or the lack thereof said bridge that was in the middle of...construction?!

 

“What the…”

 

Well...this was a predicament.

 

Now Elder Kettle was most likely having a stroke by now! 

 

So not only was he humiliated today, not only did he get  _ scolded _ ,  _ and  _ he was late for dinner, but now…

 

Now he was gonna get scolded  _ twice _ . TWICE. No child ever got scolded twice on the same day!

 

There were still some wet cement patches covering the construction site, and on normal days he would be writing his name in the concrete. But due to the  _ unfortunate circumstances  _ that wasn't to be the case today.

 

The cup took a look around before carefully plodding his way over the slightly torn down bridge.

 

Also getting his foot stuck in cement.

 

Well he can add  _ that  _ to his list of problems as well.

  
  


☕☕☕☕

 

The sky was vast and empty from the view that the small cup had as he ascended up a grassy hill finely trimmed along the sides and decorated with vast amounts of flowers. He could see about three red roses, and a few dozen blue tulips, which then was finely complemented by the rows of gardenias lined in the back. On both sides of the path he walked the flowers were symmetrically balanced. Of course, there was only one person who took time out of their day to tend to the flowers, that person being Mr. Redwood. He was a weird kind of guy, and kind of creepy, too - he had an apple for a head which made him  _ extra creepy _ .

 

Cuphead was glad it was nighttime because now he didn't have to run into the guy. That would be horrifying!

 

However those thoughts soon left his head as he came upon the cottage of which resided his guardian and little brother. The cottage in question had a very homely feel about as one should expect from a little house upon a hill surrounded by deciduous trees of all kinds. With one look at its mushroom like appearance one already could smell the homemade cooking and delicious dinners that would await within. It was a place of tranquility and serene. Something that you would never find within the crazed filled, sweet-toothed, fairgrounds of Isle 2 or within the arduous workaholic, late night jazz filled air of Isle 3 where you were more than likely to get robbed blind than be treated to a good drink and a great time.

 

However, within the walls of this house things were constantly moving at a fast pace. Cuphead and Mugman’s arrival having destroyed the thoughts of cozy comfort completely. Now it was just the sound of screeching, crying, and the ever increasing sound of what could be considered plates crashing (it was actually just Mugman and Cuphead's splendid ability to run, knock, and fall into things). Cuphead approached the house with trepidation snapping at his heels and pushing him ever closer to the warmth the house emanated. He had barely stepped on the porch before the light itself came on and there was a thunderous  _ CRASH!  _ As the wooden door slammed into the hard cobblestone of the cottage. Standing in the firm light of the livingroom was none other than Elder Kettle himself (who had not had a stroke at how late Cuphead was) huffing and puffing and Cups wasn’t sure if that was because of the amount of energy it took to slam the door open like that, or if he was genuinely that mad at him. Although Cuphead noted the fact that the kettle didn’t have steam protruding from him so...it was a start.

 

“Your brother’s been crying..” Elder Kettle stated in a calm voice as if scolding was too much, and that a simple statement would be enough to suffice.

 

And it did as the red porcelain cup idly scuffed his feet on the wooden planks of the porch and rubbed his arm awkwardly staring at everything, but his guardian.

 

“What happened to your face?”

 

“I...hit something…” Cuphead mumbled, panic screaming in his mind about how he hadn’t thought this through  _ at all  _ and Cuphead promptly told it to shut up.

 

Elder eyed him cooly, “Looks like it hit you back hard.” He squinted a bit more at the toon who flinched at his response. And it was only as he did this that he realized that the child also had faint scratches and scuff marks, along with a chip in the shape of a ‘v’ embedded deep within his white handle. He also noted the cement caking the bottom of his right shoe but decided not to mention it.

 

There was a brief moment of silence with the steady crescendo of crickets breaking it.

 

"You look tired." Elder Kettle's voice had lowered to a soothing rumble, one that reminded the small cup of being four, and snuggling against his brother, both dressed in their respective color coded PJs, sitting next to the teapot as he told a story lulling the siblings to sleep all while the fire crackled in the background. He was being nice. He knew exactly what Cuphead had done and he was being _ nice about it _ .

 

Cuphead wanted to cry.

 

And he very nearly did.

 

"Am I in trouble…?" The kid sniffled, feeling both vunerable and dumb.

 

"Yes," the kettle answered still in that soothing voice of his.

 

There was a deep sigh let out before the elder was ushering the smaller one in. Cuphead did so obediently, head down, feet dragging across the floor. His gaze was half lidded as he realized he  _ was tired _ .

 

The cup would have made his way to his room where he was sure Mugman was pretending to sleep so when he walked through the door he would get a fierce hug and a scolding. Of course that wouldn't happen, as Elder Kettle took a hold of his hand and led him to the kitchen which was to the right of the livingroom in a little alcove. There were small steps that led into the kitchen, the same steps Cuphead and Mugman had tripped over when they were sippy cups.

 

Elder Kettle had just about fainted all while Cuphead cheered and Mugman clapped giddily as if it was the best day of his life.

 

The kitchen was spacious and yet somehow small. Now that Cuphead was older it certainly  _ felt  _ smaller. The sink and cabinets all pressed together tightly against the stovetop and oven which sat in the middle. The dining table was placed in a small corner simply because there were only three people living there. The house itself was just as warm and cozy as it had always been, the peaceful ambience that always settled comfortably around the house broken by the cackling of the fireplace. 

 

Cuphead sat down at the kitchen table, fully aware that he hadn't eaten in a whole hour. He could smell pot roast, and the boiled onions and carrots and potatoes. The smell of minced garlic teased him with the smell of cooked meat. He inhaled sharply as a feeling of apprehension and excitement rushed through his being, for it wasn't everyday the toon got to eat solid food.

 

Of course, rather than a full plate he received a smattering of what was left over which immediately dampened his already sour mood.

 

_ You would have had a full plate if you weren't picking fights you can't win _ , a scathing voice in his head hissed. His hands clenched at his sides, tightly balled to the point of almost cracking. He glared pointedly at his food and properly, for the last time, told the voice in his head to  **_shut up_ ** .

 

"Did you want to talk about it...or rather - why you got into a fight today?" 

 

Cuphead blanked for a moment, his sharp glare vanishing just as quickly.  _ Why  _ had he done it? A few hours ago, he would have been so sure of the answer, but now….

 

So he went with the first thing he could think of, and surely, Elder Kettle would understand to some degree.

 

"It was payback," the cup winced instantly as his voice sounded so small and fragile which immediately turned into indignation. He wasn't weak and the reason for what he did _were justified_. He just hoped Elder Kettle saw it the same way," they were talking nonsense and stuff about Mugs! I wasn't gonna let that slide!" He slammed his hands on the table a fierce look in his amber eyes as he glare pointedly ,now, at the sitting kettle.

 

To Cuphead's relief the old toon nodded sagely before responding with something that made the toon freeze up once more.

 

"And where was Mugman in all of this? Hm? You went and fought off a bunch of bullies, I expect nothing less of you - but, then where was your brother?....more importantly...where were  _ you _ , Cuphead?"

 

Cuphead balked at the man, mouth hanging open a smidgen and the fire ignited within him at a simmer. Where had he  _ been _ ? Teaching mean people a lesson, what else! The cup said as much to the elder which was met with harsh scrutiny.

 

A weary sigh escaped the gray kettle. "Cuphead…" He started as he felt a headache coming along.

 

"What you did today, to anyone else, would seem noble, but! - your brother needs you Cuphead. Not fighting for him, but for you to be with him." He paused there hoping the toon was understanding of where he was going with this.

 

"I know, you want to help, and be a good sibling but you left Mugman to fend for himself on his own on Isle 3 and 2 while you were fighting; your brother has been  _ crying _ , Cuphead because it was approaching nightfall and you didn't show up for dinner."

Silence once again fell over the table. Cuphead spooning in as much roast as he could get in his mouth so he could delay his response, Elder Kettle watching solemnly with weary olive eyes. Swallowing, the boy noted the elder watching him still, awaiting his response to the lecture, if one could call it that…

 

Finally the silence snapped.

 

"Cuphead."

 

The boy let out a noncommittal grunt in response, pushing food around on his plate which had grown luke-warm. Elder Kettle sighed once more before heaving and pushing himself out the chair which scraped along the wooden floor. 

 

"Cuphead...please understand I don't want you to think you have to prove yourself to be a good brother. Because  _ you  _ **_are_ ** , but Mugman needs you and you're all he has…"

 

Gently, the man placed a hand upon the toon's shoulder lightly, pat it twice, before hobbling his way out of the kitchen.

 

Cuphead stared down at his food amicably, that  _ feeling _ , the one he had felt after the fight came back with a vengeance mocking laughter filling his head and cruel words spit forth venomously. Now Cuphead had truthfully been listening to Elder Kettle, it just so happens he heard what he wanted to hear, and so for the red cup he did not hear the sound of a gentle voice, but a scathing tone complete with disappointment. For it could be nothing else, he had failed as a brother and now, possibly as a son. It hurt a lot, he didn't even  _ know  _ how he was gonna look at Mugman after this but he hoped he wasn't going to be scolded again.

 

This wasn't how things were supposed to go. He should have  _ won that fight _ , he should have been able to get home in time for dinner and not fall into wet cement and tell his brother all about how amazing he is and how his big bro was looking out for him.

 

He shouldn't been scolded twice in a day…

 

Frustrated, he shoved his plate to the side and pushed himself roughly from the table. 

 

He was tired. He didn't  _ want  _ to feel bad about what had happened. He knew what he had done and that was... _ fine _ . It was fine, right?

 

...Right?

 

"This is so dumb…" Cuphead muttered under his breath, as he proceeded out the kitchen into the living room, and up the stairs to his bedroom where he was sure his brother was waiting for him.

 

Except he wasn't.

 

The blue mug was bunched up into the thick comforter Cuphead had made for him - with Elder Kettle's help of course - with intricate patterns women onto the fabric. It had been a birthday gift…

 

"Hey Mugs? Sorry 'bout missing dinner…"

 

Gentle snores were his response, but that was okay...he didn't really need to know did he? So that down on the edge of the bed simply watching his brother's still form under the cover for a moment.

 

"Elder Kettle said you were crying when I didn't come back, but I was! I was coming back! I wouldn't leave you and I  _ won't _ ."

 

"..."

 

"..."

 

"But you probably already knew that, you probably want me to shut up and let you sleep and dream about cotton candy rainbows...or whatever younger siblings dream about."

 

More snores.

 

"Good night, Mugs…"

 

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for not uploading in a while, hit a writer's block.
> 
> Also want to say that I'm currently working on another Cuphead story, so look out for that!


	4. Drabble #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flower's life cycle, if you will.

Plants are fickle little things.

 

They always needed something, and sometimes what they need is never the same thing.

 

And some flowers don't need much.

 

They get by on their own.

 

They are strong-willed and steady against the harsh environment. Nothing can or would stand in its way.

 

Because strong flowers don't wilt under pressure.

 

🌺🌺🌺

 

And then they get a field.

 

A beautiful, wondrous, and lovely field.

 

And  _ all  _ the flowers are there!

 

And they're so bright and cheery!

 

And then the flower, the strong flower, the massive root that it was, becomes stronger.

 

And the field becomes home.

 

And they'll do anything to protect that home.

 

Because strong flowers don't wilt from pressure.

 

🌺🌺🌺

And the flower lives on guarding those it cares for.

 

It fights creatures trampling its children.

 

It fights suits looking more territory to conquer.

 

It fights villagers.

 

It fights...

 

It fights...

 

It fights...

 

 

🌺🌺🌺

 

And then one day…

 

The flower wilts…under pressure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *inhales*
> 
> PRESSURE! PRESSING DOWN ON ME, PRESSING DOWN ON YOU NO MATTER SMALL!
> 
> UNDER PRESSURE! WHICH TEARS A NATION DOWN, SPLITS A FAMILY IN TWO! PUTS PEOPLE ON STREETS!
> 
> okay I'm done lol
> 
> As a side note I'm accepting any and all one-shot/ drabble requests for anyone who is interested! As long as they are like K-12 (wheeze) basically not anything rated M for mature is fine.
> 
> Gaksgskwjebsnanab GoODnIgHt!


	5. Beach Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuphead's a fatass, nuff said
> 
> A bit of fluff for the soul I guess :/

Blue lapped lightly at the pale shoreline, the white foam coating the edges flung into the air by the breeze trotting at a slow pace and combing through the nature that made up the majority of Isle One. Sunrise was slow to come, and the air was of a frosty type at this time of dawn, where the sky was still in a daze like all the residents of Inkwell. Gentleman pink rays stretched and yawned along the vast, dark blue, glittering sky to make way for the pale yellow warmth of the sun. It was a perfect day in essence.

 

A particularly perfect day for two children bumbling down rickety wooden steps and shushing each other when one was too loud. For the few years that the children had been on Inkwell, they had experienced a small tradition that their guardian had designated as 'Dawn Break'. Which consisted of a hearty breakfast and watching the sun make its majestic climb into the night sky, which would lead to the two children splashing in the cool, shallow depths of the ocean where they were least likely to be pulled in by the current. 

 

Wobbling down steps leading to the rocky shore and setting up the wicker basket they had snatched from the kitchen containing their food, the two cups giggled and whispered conspiratorially noting that they weren't that far from the house and didn't want their guardian to catch them.

 

Not that it mattered of course, as Elder Kettle had heard their little porcelain feet on the wooden floors, and the sound of them racing around the kitchen downstairs, rustling through a multitude of cabinets for supplies. He had the feeling he knew what they were planning on doing, and, still groggy from sleep, decided to allow them this one moment. 

 

Seagulls pranced and hopped along the shore, beast yellow eyes catching sight of the brothers and watching intensely as they skittered around each other, desperately setting up their breakfast before the sun climbed any higher.

 

"Cuphead, where are the ***** crab muffins?!"

 

"In the bag!"

 

"No it isn't, I just checked!"

 

"Check again, dummy."

 

"..."

 

"...oh I- wait a minute, why's there only one muffin!"

 

A bashful smile. "Yeeeeaaah, um...I ate the others…"

 

"Cuphead!"

 

The red cup threw his hands in the air in exasperation, "What? They were getting cold and you _barely_ eat these anyways!"

 

Mugman squinted at him. "Those were for Elder Kettle…"

 

"Welp…"

 

Rather than sling the basket at his brother's head like he wanted to, Mugs simply positioned himself with his legs under him where he sat in the sand and his hands folded in his lap. It was a little weird, not the sitting part, just Elder Kettle's presence not being there. He figured he would get used to it the older he got but they were seven now and already Cuphead was acting as if not being by their guardian's side was normal and not nerve-racking. He envied, truly, but until he found comfort in the silence he would be content by his brother and guardian's side for a bit.

 

"Oh don't start meditating right now!" Cuphead mumbled around a piece of crab muffin, flicking sand at his brother's face.

 

"Wh- WHY DID YOU EAT THE LAST ONE!!!" Mugman screeched in horror, already lunging for his brother to smack the muffin out of his grip. Cuphead snorted in amusement and quickly dodged him, giggling through crab meat and seasoned bread as his blue brother crashed into the sand with a muffled squeal.

 

His laughter stopped however when baby blue eyes glared icicles at him. "Oh so _that's_ how it's gonna be, huh?" The porcelain toon slowly stood up, calmly dusted sand off him and with a war like cry, charged at a panicked Cuphead with half the muffin in his mouth.

 

☕☕☕

 

It would be five in the morning when Elder Kettle would awaken from his sleep where he would be greeted with…

 

Silence.

 

An eerie silence that spoke of a terrible misfortune befalling someone.

 

Which was probably Cuphead since death seemed to have a magnetic attraction towards him. He was proven right of course when he made it to the bottom of the steps and found himself subjected to the sight of Cuphead's body hanging from a oak tree while his head sat in the sand with a miffed expression on his face. Mugman sat next to him munching on an apple with a content expression on his face. When the blue mug heard his guardian approach with an inquisitive look upon his face Mugman simply pointed to the basket laying on its side with contents spilled.

 

"Cuphead ate all the muffins."

 

Elder Kettle turned to the red cup with a raised brown.

 

"What?! I _like_ crab muffins, okay!" The toon's expression went from one of annoyance at his circumstances to embarrassment.

 

The guardian snorted loudly in mirth."I'll take it you both enjoyed your breakfast then?"

 

Mugman snickered behind his apple. "Oh, I'm definitely enjoying mine."

 

"That's because you're a sadist."

 

"You take those words back or I'm filling your head with stones."

 

"Yep, a sadist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! 
> 
> Remember to all you new folks reading this (howdy!) REQUESTS ARE ALLOWED AS LONG AS THEY AREN'T INAPPROPRIATE!!! 
> 
> okay that's it, chill out my guys ^^
> 
> *crab muffins are like crab cakes but in muffin form, don't know if they would taste as good as crab muffins but hey it's a headcanon now! Inkwellians really love their seafood!

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more of this random shit while I try to understand my own fucking headcanons =)
> 
>  
> 
> This is random please ask questions if you must please and I'll try to answer them as best I can! 
> 
>  
> 
> *Des meinos*- i hope to god that's not a real word because right now I'm trying to jist like create I guess a sort of language? for Inkwell Isles, because I just figured they would...?
> 
> Yeah anyways, it means piss off


End file.
